Sinful Southern Hero: 2 (5 page)

“Lucy, look at me.” The fight going on inside Lucy’s mind
was clear to Dalton as he watched her try to calm herself. After a few deep
breaths, she met his gaze. “I will never hurt you. If you want to heal, get
past what your ex put you through, you’ll have to do some things that will make
you uncomfortable at first. I want to help you, but you’ve got to stop running.”
He tried a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. “At least stop running from
me
.
Feel free to run from all the other men beggin’ for a taste of you.”

As he’d hoped, she relaxed a fraction and huffed a small
laugh.

“Every time I fell off my horse when I was a kid, my father
made me get right back on.”

She raised a brow, a tentative smile tugging at her kiss-swollen
lips. “If you’re asking me to ride you, the answer is no.”

Dalton laughed, a deep, full-belly rumble. He liked Lucy’s
spirit. The way she could be innocent and fearful one second and sharp and
witty the next. He suspected she’d been a different person altogether before
her ex had twisted her in knots. The strong, capable, funny woman she’d be once
the fear stopped stalking her peeked through her shields and he felt a
corresponding crack in the walls he’d built around himself. “While I sure as
hell wouldn’t turn you down if you offered, I wasn’t going to ask you to ride
me.” At least, not yet anyway.

She grinned and her eyes sparkled as though she’d read his
mind and didn’t find the idea as abhorrent as she pretended. “Please, continue
with your words of wisdom.”

He couldn’t help but grin back at her. He also couldn’t
remember ever smiling this much with a woman, probably because most of the time
he spent in a woman’s company, she was either moaning or screaming his name,
not laughing at him. “Since your mind’s in the gutter, I’ll put it this way.
The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone else.”

“I thought you wanted me on top.”

Dalton used his grip on her thighs to tug her a little
closer to him, placing the heat of her desire right where he wanted it, pressed
against the erection working its way back to full strength inside his jeans.
Her lips parted and he watched her pupils dilate. “Lucy.” His voice was lower,
rougher, all strains of humor replaced by lust. “I’m going to kiss you. Just a
kiss, nothing more. I’ll keep my hands right here.” He gave her thighs a gentle
squeeze and waited for her reaction.

After a tense moment when he wondered if she’d reject him,
she gave a short nod. He leaned in, slowly, allowing her time to change her
mind. Just a kiss, but he wanted Lucy to accept his kiss more than he’d wanted
to ease his length inside Rachel as she’d been stretched naked over his kitchen
table. In the back of his mind, a warning sounded. He ignored the nagging
feeling that his life was about to change irrevocably with the simple press of
his lips to hers.

He hesitated, his lips a breath away from hers, before
closing the space between them. He’d barely had time to register the taste of
vanilla and the feel of her lips, smooth and full like a ripe plum, before a
pounding on Lucy’s front door had her scrambling off his lap. This time, he let
her go.

Lucy pushed a curl out of her face and tucked it behind her
ear. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind. Had one of her neighbors heard
them arguing? Found her cell phone lying in the grass? Was Ross on the other
side of the door, his fist drawn back and ready?

Her heart raced, palms growing damp and clammy.

A reassuring hand pressed against her lower back, the
gentleness of the touch contradicting the size and strength of the man now
standing behind her. With a deep breath, she swung open the door.

White teeth gleamed, reflecting off the dim illumination
from the cheap security light beside the front door. Lucy supposed the man standing
on her stoop thought his grin was charming. All straight white teeth and
dimples. It reminded Lucy of a wolf. A baring of teeth instead of a smile.

“Hello, Brad. I thought you’d moved into the old Wrigley
place across town a few weeks ago.”

Lucy looked at Dalton as he spoke, taking in his reaction to
the newcomer. He wasn’t fond of the man standing at her door, that much was
clear in the narrowing of his blue eyes and the way his long fingers tensed
against her back.

“Change of plans.” Brad shrugged. The move was meant to look
casual but Lucy could see the tension in his muscled shoulders. He pulled his
gaze away from Dalton and focused on Lucy. A calculating gleam shone within his
brown-black eyes. “I’ve been meaning to come say hello. I’m your downstairs
neighbor.”

Brad stuck his hand out toward her and she reluctantly slid
her palm over his. “Nice to meet you, Brad. I’m Lucy. I guess you already know
Dalton.”

His smile slipped before coming back even brighter than
before. “Of course I know Dalton, he’s practically family. He’s been dating my
sister for quite a while now.”

Lucy flinched and drew away from Dalton and the violent
energy suddenly surrounding him. He’d said he didn’t have a girlfriend. Was the
blonde he’d been ready to spank and ride atop his kitchen table Brad’s sister?
She clenched her fists, feeling more betrayal over the lie than she had any
right to. She and Dalton weren’t involved, despite the kisses they’d
shared—which was obviously a mistake.

“I’m not dating Rachel.” Dalton’s voice was as harsh as the
planes of his face in the dim light.

“Well.” Brad offered another shrug, jammed his hands in the
pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. “Maybe
involved
is a
better term for what you do with my sister.”

The tension rose until it hung heavy and palpable in the
air. All Lucy wanted was for both men to leave and forget she existed. It’d be
better for everyone that way, even if the thought of never seeing Dalton again
sent a pang of something she didn’t want to examine too closely rushing around
her heart. Never running a hand over those chiseled abs, abs a man should have
to file a permit to build. Never again inhaling his scent of sawdust and
leather and clean male.

Beyond his involvement with another woman, if Ross ever
found out Dalton had looked at Lucy, spoke to Lucy, heaven forbid
touched
her… She had no doubt in her mind Ross would see it as a challenge to his
manhood. Once he set his sights on Dalton, he wouldn’t rest until Dalton was
either dead or wished he was. That painful truth shored up her resolve.

Dalton turned toward her, abandoning the pissing contest he
seemed to be having with Brad. “Lucy, I never lied to you. If you’ll—”

“No need to explain,” she said, cutting him off. She turned
to Brad and plastered on a smile as fake as every smile he’d shared with them
tonight. “It was lovely meeting you but I think it’s time for you both to go.
I’ve had a shitty day and I’d like to go to bed.”

She held up a hand, palm out, to stop whatever words were
begging to come out of Dalton’s mouth. Brad didn’t look like he was budging
until Dalton was on the outside of the door with him and Lucy needed to be
alone before she did something stupid like cried or asked Dalton to stay and
hold her.

The pleading in his deep-blue eyes and the way he’d turned
away instead of decking Brad had her wishing she could let him stay. As much as
she’d have liked him to hold her, she liked the idea of him staying safe and
alive much more. Her voice gentled as she spoke to him. “Please, just let it be
for now. I’m not angry with you, I just want to be alone right now.”

Dalton looked like he wanted to argue but heaved a heavy
sigh and trudged the two steps over the threshold, taking up the spot Brad had
occupied until he’d started down the stairs.

“Good night, Dalton. Be careful.” She shut and locked the
door before he could reply.

Slowly, the rumble of male voices receded. She put her back
against the door and waited until she heard Dalton’s truck start up and drive
away. It was another few minutes until she heard the door of the apartment
below her open and shut and she wondered what Brad was doing out there in the
dark. Maybe he was a smoker.

Lucy bit her bottom lip and tried to decide if it was safe
to go collect the cell phone she’d tossed earlier. “Stop being such a pansy and
just go get it. Nothing is going to happen tonight. Just because he found your
phone number doesn’t mean he knows where you live,” she told herself aloud.

Thankfully nothing required a landline anymore so she couldn’t
be tracked that way. She had all of her bills set up to be delivered to a post
office box two towns over so even if he knew her cell number, she didn’t think
he’d be able to find her through that alone.

Feeling like a total wuss, she flung open the door and raced
down the stairs in the humid night air. She spotted her cell phone lying in the
short grass, snatched it from the ground and took the stairs two at a time on
the way back up. The sound of the deadbolt clicking shut worked to slow her
racing heart. She tossed the cell phone on the coffee table on her way to her
bedroom, angry all over again at how Ross was capable of ruling her life,
filling her with fear, even after she’d left him and moved two states away.

Running, hiding wasn’t going to remove Ross from her life.
Lucy needed to come up with a new strategy, and fast.

* * * * *

Dalton pulled open the glass-and-metal door to Hart’s Ink
and strode inside. Cold air rushed over his sweat-dampened skin, a welcome
sensation after spending the morning out in the summer heat. He brushed a hand
over his close-shaved head and moved down the hallway leading to Lucy’s office.

He’d felt her withdrawal from him last night just before
she’d all but pushed him out the door. While he understood her reluctance to allow
anyone close after what she’d been through with her ex, he wasn’t going to let
her run from him. It was obvious she was in some trouble with her ex and Dalton
worried for her safety. Her safety was his only concern and his sole reason for
tracking her down on his lunch break. At least, that’s what he kept telling
himself.

Finding the door to her office ajar, he pressed his hand
flat against the smooth wooden surface and pushed it open. An irrational
disappointment settled in his chest when he found the room empty. Not giving
up, he headed toward Abigail’s office, knowing she came in before noon each day
to tattoo clients. He paused, taking in the sight of another empty office while
the murmur of two feminine voices filled the otherwise silent building.

Dalton stopped outside the room Abigail used for tattooing
and listened. He felt like a creep eavesdropping but the conversation going on
between two women kept him rooted in place.

“So, what do you think?” Lucy’s voice was muffled by the
closed door but Dalton knew it was her speaking.

“I can’t tattoo over a scar but there’s lots of ways a scar
can be camouflaged by a tattoo. Scar tissue, especially from a recent injury,
is constantly regenerating, changing, so a tattoo on the scar itself is a bad
idea. The ink won’t hold and you’ll end up with eyesore instead of a piece of
art. What I can do is tattoo right up against the edge of the scars, using a
design that incorporates the white line so it appears as part of the art.”
Abigail spoke in the professional tone she used with clients but Dalton could
hear the thread of compassion in her voice.

“I’ve thought about this for a long time. I’ll leave the
content up to you, but I want my scars gone. Hidden. If I’m going to have a
permanent reminder of the hell I’ve lived through, I want it to be on my terms.
The marks I have were put there against my will. I don’t want Ross to have that
kind of control over me anymore. I can’t control a lot of things, but I should
be able to decide what’s permanently on my body.”

A long pause followed before Abigail spoke. Dalton held his
breath, hurting for Lucy and angry she’d been abused and no one had helped her.

“All right. I have a few hours free right now and a great
idea for the scar on your thigh. I kept this time free so I could get some
paperwork done but I can do it later. I fucking hate paperwork, you’re giving
me a great excuse to procrastinate.” Abigail’s husky laugh sounded through the
door. “I think your thigh would be the best place to start, probably the least
sensitive. I have to warn you, nerves around scar tissue are fickle. Sometimes
clients say they don’t feel any pain at all, others are extra sensitive and say
it hurts like hell.”

“It can’t possibly hurt worse than when I got the scar in
the first place.” Lucy’s voice was so quiet, Dalton barely heard the words.

Not able to stand the closed door between them any longer,
he raised his knuckles and rapped softly on the cool wood. He needed to be
close to Lucy, to offer her his strength and support, even if he didn’t fully
understand the need to do so.

The door opened a crack and Abigail’s dark eyes peered out
at him. “Oh, Dalton.” She pulled the door open. “What are you doing here?”

He looked over Abigail’s shoulder and spotted Lucy perched
on the adjustable, leather tattooing table. Her blue-gray eyes widened and her
pink lips made a little “O” of surprise. “I came to see Lucy.” He shrugged and
shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Just thought I’d stop by and see
how things are going.”

Abigail raised one perfectly arched brow. “Riiiight. Well,
I’ll just go sketch out the design I have in mind.” She turned toward Lucy. “Take
your time, give me about thirty minutes to draw and color the design, then
we’ll get you tattooed.”

The scent of antiseptic, Tattoo Goo and ink worked to calm
Dalton’s nerves as he stepped inside the room. Since he’d gotten his first
tattoo years ago, the scent of a tattoo parlor had been one of his favorites.

He waited until Abigail had disappeared through the doorway
then moved closer to Lucy until his hips pressed against her knees where they
hung over the edge of the table. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth snapped shut,
chasing away her surprised expression and replacing it with hard resolve.

“Does your girlfriend know you’re here?”

Dalton placed his hands on the black leather surface of the
table on either side of her hips, caging her in. A tiny, delicate gasp caught
in Lucy’s throat and he tried like hell not to be affected. The last thing this
confrontation needed in the middle of it was a rock-hard erection. “I told you,
she isn’t my girlfriend. Brad just likes to cause trouble.”

“I’m not sure what to believe after…after what I saw at your
house. It doesn’t matter, though. We can’t continue this.” She waved a hand between
them. “Can’t continue.”

“You didn’t have a problem with
this
before Brad
showed up and started being the asshole he always is.”

Her plump lips twitched as if she were fighting a smile. “I
plead temporary insanity for any and all ravishing that took place last night.”

Dalton loved how Lucy surprised him with her sharp wit,
finding humor in the most tense situations. He shifted his hips, nudging her
knees apart until he could fit his hips between them and press his rising
erection to the cold metal frame of the table. Maybe the chill would help him
get his dick under control. “Honey, you think that was ravishing? You ain’t
seen nothing yet.”

She leaned close, squeezing his hips with her knees. Her
soft curls brushed over his cheek as her mouth neared his ear. Lucy’s small
hands landed on his shoulders and he fought the need to pull her against him,
slide his hands under her perfectly plump ass, lift her and grind into her heat
against the wall. Her citrus-and-sunshine scent swamped him, invading his pores
and seeping into his soul.

“I wouldn’t say I’ve seen
nothing
, Dalton. In fact, I
think I’ve seen way more than enough.” Her whispered words snapped his fantasy
like a twig under a heavy boot. He tried to ignore the sensual brush of her
lips against his earlobe. “You’ll stay away from me, if you know what’s good
for you.”

She leaned away and pushed against his shoulders until he
stepped back. Dalton felt bereft at the loss of her heat and softness. “What if
I don’t want to stay away from you?”

Lucy’s expressive eyes filled with pain and anger as she
held his gaze. “You don’t understand. If you did, we wouldn’t be having this
conversation. I want you safe, Dalton. And safe means being far, far away from
me.”

His jaw hardened. The crazy woman was trying to protect him.
“I’m not the one who needs looking after, Lucy. I’ll be damned if I’m going to
walk away while you’re being stalked by your fuckhead ex.” Dalton reached
forward and ran a finger down the line of a long scar on her thigh bared by her
shorts. “I won’t be able to live with myself if I walk away and you end up with
more of these, or worse. That’s what
you
don’t understand.”

Lucy sucked in a breath and started to speak when the sound
of Abigail’s footfalls echoed in the hallway. She batted Dalton’s hand from her
thigh and straightened her spine.